Title: Whispering Stars
Author:Calex
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer:I own nothing. The BtVS characters belong to Joss Whedon, the HP to JK Rowling.
Email: calex.writing@gmail.com
Feedback:If you would
Notes: This story will be a Spike/Ginny pairing, but this is mainly Dru doing the thinking,

here. Lets see how well an insane vampire fares under my… tender care.



 





The stars were beautiful, that night.

Beautiful, shiny. So shiny. They glowed bright in the sky, asking her to join

them. They talked to her, the stars did, her and Miss Edith, but they talked to

her mostly. They told her things, did the stars. Lots of things. They said it

was because she was special. Drusilla didn’t think she was special, but she

felt it, when the stars told her that. No one talked to her, anymore. No one,

but the stars. Oh, Miss Edith always talked to her, but sometimes that wasn’t

enough. She missed her Spike, her William the Bloody. Oh, how she had mourned

for him when he had fallen in love with the Slayer. Never her, though. No,

never her. Her Spike was never the Slayer’s, never should be, never will be,

now. Her Spike’s true love was still waiting for him, here. Drusilla always

wanted to giggle to that. She was going to help her Spike, she was. Help him be

happy again. She was never Spike’s love, she was holding on to him for someone

else. Her Spike’s true love, the girl with the bloody hair.





“Bloody hair for my bloody Spike,”

Drusilla sang out, softly. “How the stars laugh. They laugh, and sing, and

dance and play to what they have done. Naughty stars. Clever stars. My Spike

happy, I want my Spike happy.” She giggled as she twirled around, her arms

outstretched and her head tilted back so she could better see the night stars.

She was free. She was free, free, free. Free from the Snake Man who had wanted

to use her in his fight. Bad Snake Man, bad! She was tired of being the pawn,

the insane seer who helped to end the world. She was glad when the Magic Man

had saved her from the Snake Man. The Magic Man was so good, Drusilla could

sense his goodness, see his goodness, smell his goodness, taste his

goodness. He had a kind smile, did her Magic Man. But perhaps she shouldn’t

call him Magic Man, there were hundreds of them around her, these days. Perhaps

she should take his offer of calling him Albus. Drusilla stopped her twirling

and fell back onto the springy, moist grass, her arms still outstretched, one

hand clutching Miss Edith. She lay like that for a long moment, just staring,

staring at the sky and for once, just once, letting her mind be free of

thoughts and images. That was how Albus Dumbledore found her.





“Drusilla,” the man had a smile to

his words, as always. “Enjoying the view, my dear?”



“The stars are lovely this night,

dearie,” she replied, smiling dreamily at the old man. “They whisper to me,

tonight. Soft whispers. Not like the usual shouts. I like the whispers, they

are peaceful.”



“I’d think they would be,” he

nodded. “It must be unpleasant to hear shouting all the time.” She looked up at

him, and smiled. He always understood, her Magic Man. Albus, she must remember

to call him Albus. “How is Miss Edith?”





“She is thankful for the whispers as

well,” she smiled as Dumbledore chuckled. “Miss Edith wanted to thank you for

the dress you gave her for Christmas.”





“It was nothing, dear.” Drusilla

could hear, smell the blood that rushed up to tinge the cheeks of this elderly

wizard pink. She smiled. He was so gentlemanly, her Albus. So kind. She hadn’t

had kindness for so long, not since her Spike was gone. He reminded her of a

wiser, more confident Spike, before he was turned. Before she turned him. Then,

she had been giddy at the thought of corrupting his kindness, making him evil.

Like daddy. And Mummy. But Mummy didn’t like it when she called her that. Mummy was dead, now. And Daddy didn’t

want to play, anymore. Drusilla wished she had discovered this life, before.

The vampiress sighed, and Albus looked concerned.





“Something bothering you, dear

Drusilla?”





“My Spike,” was the only thing she

said, her voice broken. Hush, stars. Thank you for your whispers, but she

needed to grieve. She needed to feel sad for her Spike. She shook her head,

tried to block away the comfort the stars were giving her, that Miss Edith was

giving her. She hoped Albus didn’t try to comfort her, either. “I miss my

Spike. It’s been too long, Albus. Too too long, since the last time. Last time

was bad, bad. Naughty Dru. Grr. Bad. Ruff! I need my Spike.”





“Drusilla…” he crouched down as much

as he could to look at her. “He will come. We have sent word and he said that

he would come.” No comfort, no. Magic Man always knew what she wanted. Magic

Man was good, Albus was good. Good, good man. The man who had saved her from

the bad Snake Man, who had taken care of the insane vampiress. She smiled at

that thought, clutching Miss Edith to her breast. She lifted one elegant, frail

hand and touched a cold finger to his wrinkled cheek.



“Your body rotted, rotted away. I

offered to turn you, those years back. You refused, refused what I gave. It

wouldn’t have hurt, no hurt. Not much. Just a bite. A long sip. Then you’d have

taken a long sip. Then you’d snore, and sleep, sleep the days away. Immortal.

Imagine all the fun we’d have had, Albus. Fun, fun, fun. Grandmother, Daddy, me

and my Spike. And you. What havoc,” she giggled. Then she sobered as she held her whole hand

to cup the tired face. “But you were too kind, kind even then. I wanted to

corrupt your kindness, like I did my Spike. But the stars told me not to. They

wanted you alive, did the stars. They liked my Albus, even then. The stars told

me things, pretty things, dark things about your future, Albus.





“I’ve never regretted mortality,

Drusilla,” he said, quietly. “I may not be the 20 year old youth I was, but I

do not regret my life.” She shook her head. Beautiful Albus, even in his

rotting body. Beautiful, kind Albus. She didn’t corrupt him, couldn’t taint his

kindness. That had made Daddy really angry, but she didn’t care. She had wished

her Albus well, she did. She remembered it. Remembered what she said to him.

She’d told him to hold on like that. Her Albus did, though he was not beautiful

anymore. He used to be so beautiful, beautiful. But he was still beautiful to

her. Yes, still beautiful, still. She could remember what he was like, and she

found him now more beautiful. Yes. More beautiful.



“I told you not to change, do you

remember? Don’t change I said, I said. Hold on, and you held. You held, you

held on and on and on. You’re still holding, Albus, still holding. I like you

holding on. Hold on a little longer. Hold on till my Spike comes.” Her eyes

welled up with pink tinted tears and Albus raised a wrinkled hand to cover hers

and nodded, mutely. He would hold on. She knew what was happening to his body.

Rotting, she said. True enough. But he had to hold on for this woman, this

vampire. He had to make sure she was fine till “her Spike” came. He remembered

the vampire, remembered how he had taken care of Drusilla and knew he could

trust the vampire. Drusilla nodded, smiling. All well now.





“Dance with me? The stars are

starting to sing. I’d like a dance, haven’t danced in a long time.”







“Of course,” he said, gravely, and

she smiled again at him. He never laughed at her, or thought any of what she said

was strange. He always took her seriously, did Albus. She wished she could keep

him, but knew she couldn’t. She let the man pull her up, then into his arms as

they fashioned a little waltz around the grounds of Hogwarts, moonlight bathing

them in a faint glow and the stars glowing brightly, staring down at the purple

robed, white haired wizard in his pointed wizard’s cap, and the pale skinned,

dark haired vampiress, clutching her doll in her hand, while the other was on

the wizard’s shoulder.







 



*



 









“Where is she?” he roared as he

burst through the room. Her Spike. Her eyes wanted to water so badly, but she

held it in. She knew her Spike didn’t like her crying. She looked up from the

charts in front of her just as he got to her table. She stood up and smiled,

smiled so softly at him. His face. Familiar, oh so familiar. She raised a hand,

traced deceptively gentle fingertips on his impossibly high, cut glass

cheekbones and those tears welled up again.



“My Spike,” she whispered. “You

came. Came you did, for me. Me?” He leaned his face into her familiar cold

touch and she smiled at the gesture. Like a cat, was her Spike. She never

needed a cat, because she had him. As a teasing gesture, she brought her

fingers to under his chin and raked her nails on the skin there, gently. She

saw that mouth of his curve, and then she heard the purr. Oh, how wonderful.

She laughed as she clapped her hands together. Her Spike remembered. “You

remembered, my Spike,” she said happily, dancing around her desk towards him.

“Remembered, remembered.”





“Of course.” His eyes were so sad

now, her Spike’s. Dru fought her demon at the thought, and the hatred she felt

at the blonde Slayer for putting that look in her Spike’s eyes. She knew it was

the blonde Slayer’s fault, always had been the blonde Slayer’s fault. She had

made her Spike doubt himself, her Spike. Her brave, wonderful Spike. Her

beautifully wicked Spike with his big, big breakable heart. Oh, his heart. He

was such passion, was her Spike. He had such fire, such passion, such capacity

for love that it followed him, even as a vampire. She turned sombre, then,

pressing her hand over where his heart beat could now be felt under her palm.





“You’re alive, my Spike,” she looked

so sad, felt so sad. A part of her was gone, for the vampire. Gone. Gone was

her part in his life. She wasn’t his sire, anymore. No, no she wasn’t. He was

human, now. Human. He had always been happier as a human.





“They made me human. Dru.” She was

tracing patters on his chest. “Dru, please. Tell me what’s wrong, love. What

happened to you? What did they do to you, pet?” She stopped what she was doing

and looked up at him, surprise written on her face.



“Nothing, my Spike. Nothing at all.

My Albus has taken care of me. The bad Snake Man wanted to use me, use me. But

the Magic Man helped me, he did. He understands me, my Spike.” She smiled at

him. “My Albus is my Magic Man, but his body’s rotting away. Flesh rots, rots

in time. And my Albus is old, old. Old now, for human. Old. He kept me safe.

The stars whisper when he’s around. They don’t shout, not like they usually do.

They whisper. And it’s soothing, so soothing. The whispers are. And Miss Edith.

He gave Miss Edith a dress for Christmas, my Spike. A pretty dress. Miss Edith

liked it very much.” Spike chuckled sadly.





“You sound as though you’re quite

taken with this man, pet. Too bad he’s old, eh? You could’ve turned him for

us.”





“Oh no,” Dru giggled. “I offered,

once. Long ago. Asked him to be young, young forever. But he didn’t want to,

did my Albus. He says he’s quite happy, he is. Happy being old, and doing what

he did. The stars wanted me to let go of him. The stars liked him. Daddy wasn’t

happy with me, though. Daddy punished me. Crack, went the whip. Crack

over my skin. I’ve got lovely scars from that night, my Spike. Don’t you

remember?” Spike closed his eyes, screwed his eyes shut. A shudder went through

his body. Oh, he remembered alright. Remembered exactly what happened, he’d

been scarred that night, too. Angelus wasn’t happy with just his Dru being

hurt. Angelus and Darla had a right great time whipping him and Dru like dogs.

“Oh my Spike.” He opened his eyes to see her smiling softly at him. “My sweet,

dear Spike. Always had such a big heart, did my Spike have.” Her hand was over

his heart again. Her coldness radiated, even through his shirt. Spike shivered

and that was when the door was opened.



“Drusilla, I’ve got those books that

you asked for. You should grovel and beg at my feet, Madame Pince was glaring

at me the whole time I was in the restricted section. I swear, you’d think the

woman would forget a little incident that happened seven years ago. And

it was only one book that got torched, and it wasn’t even my fa-” she

broke off when she saw the other figure, and how close they had been standing.

One red eyebrow shot up to nearly her hairline and she stood, her arms crossed,

and a you-better-tell-me-what’s-going-on-here look directed firmly at Dru. “I’m

sorry, am I interrupting something?”





Drusilla

broke away from Spike and giggled, clapping her hands gaily in front of her as

she walked quickly towards the petite young woman in the blue robes. The woman

hid the books behind her back and shook her head. She had a wicked look on her

face and Drusilla pouted. The woman didn’t give an inch. Dru sighed.





“My Spike, this is Ginny Weasley. My friend.”

Surprise flashed on Ginny’s face before it was replaced by a bright smile. The

young miss Weasley was obviously touched by the words.





“And I know of you, Mr. The Bloody,” Ginny nodded

her head towards the former vampire. He couldn’t look away from her. She was

perfect, perfect in his eyes. When those cinnamon eyes of hers met his, he felt

the flash of recognition hit him. He knew this woman, though he was sure he’d

never met her before in his life. She wouldn’t allow herself to be forgotten,

this woman. She defied being forgotten. Unconsciously, his feet moved him

closer to the redhead, whose hair was the very shade of blood at it’s best. It

hung in waves to nearly her waist, let loose to frame a heart shaped face that

was dominated by the mouth. But god, what a mouth. She had an arched upper lip,

and a fuller bottom lip that he had the urge to nibble on. The other arresting

thing about her face was the eyes, the cinnamon eyes that held intelligence,

wit and fire in their gaze, all at once. Defiance, there was a lot in this one. Pride

as well. She would be a handful. Spike suddenly grinned. He liked handfuls.



“The name’s Spike, love,” he purred

as he raised a free hand to his lips. “You’re welcome to use it.” They hadn’t

even noticed as Drusilla had stolen the books from her friend’s limp hands and

walked out of the room, letting the door close with a soft click. Her

Spike would be happy with her Ginny. Her Ginny was a lovable girl, with as much

passion, as much fire, and as much heart as her Spike. They wouldn’t have an

easy relationship, no, but they would be happy. She wanted her Spike to be

happy, very happy. He deserved his happiness. She wondered when she should tell

him that she had long since decided to stay on at Hogwarts.









*



 





Ginny fought the urge to lick her

lips. The man had such an intense gaze, and his eyes. Dear lord his ice blue

eyes. They seemed to look at her, through her and into her all at the same

time. There was such fire in those eyes, and when he had laid his eyes on her,

she felt as though she was going to be consumed. Her hand, where he had kissed,

was throbbing, and still lying in the warmth of his palm. She felt herself be

inconceivably drawn to this man, and she couldn’t think why. When she looked at

him… she felt like losing all reason. She felt like she should give in to that

voice in her head that dared her to take that step, that dared her to explore

those unbelievably high cheekbones, and that mouth. She nearly blushed.

She shouldn’t think of such thing, not about a stranger, not this

stranger. Dru’s friend. She was Dru’s friend. And this wasn’t just any

friend, this was Spike. She couldn’t… but… wait a minute.







“Where’s Dru?”



 







*



 







He could see it in her eyes, those

great brown eyes of hers. The gradual melting, the need to give in, the

temptation. So close that he had begun to move towards her when those eyes

snapped to attention again. What she said was so wholly unexpected that he nearly

crashed into her from his downward decent.



“Where’s Dru?”



“Dru?” he cried out in disbelief.

“How the hell should I ruddy well know, pet? And why should I care?” The look

she sent him was so completely scathing that he knew he had lost immediate points

with her. Spike wanted to curse.





“Because,” she said, icily. “This is

Drusilla. She’s slightly on the insane side. She’s also my friend, and yours.

More than just a friend of yours,” she sneered. “That, Billy Idol,

is why you should care.” When he didn’t immediately come with her, she huffed

an impatient breath. “What?!”





“You know Billy Idol?”





“Shut up,” she snarled and turned on

her heel, slamming the door behind her, leaving behind a very bemused Spike. He

sighed, then, knew he had to go after her. She was right, he knew she was. But

he also knew what she didn’t. Drusilla didn’t run off without a reason, she

wanted to leave the two of them alone. Spike rubbed the back of his hand

against his closed eyes and sighed again. She knew something she wasn’t telling

him.







*